The Ghosts of Halloweens Past

Halloween. All Hallows Eve. The weakening of the plane between the land of the living and the deceased. Whatever you may call it, in this family it is all magic.

The decorations. The costumes. Pumpkins. Candy. Pub crawls with friends. Zombie crawls with family...

The atmosphere thus created is what we crave and live for within this family. The air is crisp making everything feel more alive even as the leaves are falling. This year is no different while ultimately, everything is different.

There is no away around saying what we all collectively think at this point...Covid-19 sucks, especially throughout this spooky season. Now, as an adult, I can deal with this. I don't really have a choice, am I correct? However, I will not, cannot let the season be stolen from my little loves. So we continue the dress-up game with what costumes and make-up we already have laying around the house and create our own fun-filled photo shoot at the creepy cemetery which can be found down the dirt road on which we live.

We find gray skin paint. Red tubes of fake blood. Why I have this laying around the house, that is a great question. I pull out old makeup: black eye shadow, black eyeliner, tinted powders.

Luckily, I have always collected costumes and we find old saloon outfits, fishnet stockings, tiny hats with feathers and bows, fedoras. old button downs. and plastic bins full of other odds and ends.

The kids go wild. Laughter and scuffles over who will get what ensues. Zombie siblings and cousins emerge out of the chaos. We forget about the outside world. The parties and events we will be missing become background noise. We find a new normal.

Now, we cannot merely dress up and take a few photos. There has to be a mood. We wait until twilight on a night when the fog will be moving into the area. The iron gates which guard the cemetery loom in the cool evening breeze. A light mist envelopes us as we load the kids in the back of the pick-up and let them ride on blankets up the hill. Through the windows, their laughter and screams of excitement and invoked fear pierce the air. A break in the oaks and pines appear and we pull the truck into the cemetery gates. The fun begins.

My mother tells scary stories of her youth, stories I have heard throughout my own childhood. Stories of her and her friends taking flowers off graves. Going home for a slumber party and having the doors and windows to the bedroom slam shut and being locked from the outside. Shutters banging. Howling. Stories of the caped man that would disappear under the streetlight across from the old cemetery next to which my mother grew up. Stories of how you never step on graves. Needless to say, I had a healthy respect for cemeteries and graves growing up, but a love the peace that can be found within.

Once we get the kids riled up and ready to go, we let them roam. They pose in front of trees, branches hanging low skimming the tops of old tombstones, words barely visible. Proof that time keeps marching. The old caretaker's shed, doors falling from the hinges, the darkness which pours from inside ominous creates the new backdrop. A clearing between tomb plots calls the children to gather. Darkness now envelopes us all.

For a few short hours, adults and children alike laughed and delighted in the chills that run down our spines from the ghost stories told in a small town cemetery on a foggy night. The fun continues with cocoa, Halloween movies, and popcorn mixed with candy corn. On this night, the canceled parties are forgotten. Costumes, jack-o-lanterns, and family are remembered.

As we all enter a new normal, whether it be due to changes from the pandemic or other personal struggles, we can still participate in play. So, get the family, break out the make-up, dress up, make costumes out of what can be found around the house, and decorate... the world is your oyster.

Zombies unite!